Guantanamo Gay
by slutpark
Summary: An inmate and a warden at Guantanamo Bay bond over their mutual love for John Green's The Fault in Our Stars. collab by: lesprit-de-escalier x slutpark
1. Chapter 1

"I no want to read this book!" the inmate grunted as he tossed a Stephen King book out the flap of the door. The warden sighed. Library hours at Guantanamo Bay were always difficult.

"Are you sure? Stephen King is very popular." he coaxed.

"I NO WANT!" the inmate shrieked, banging on the door. "I WANT GOOD BOOK!"

The warden was frustrated. What could possibly be wrong with Stephen King? He picked up the next book in the pile. _The Fault in Our Stars_. The warden walked over to cell block 69420B and slid the book through the flap door.

"How about some John Green, eh?"

The inmate eyed the book suspiciously.

"This not crappy Stephen?"

"Nope, this is John Green, it's about two teenage cancer patients who fall in love."

The inmate took the book and looked at the blurb.

"You lying! Book says ǝʌoן uı ןןɐɟ oɥʍ sʇuǝıʇɐd ɹǝɔuɐɔ ǝbɐuǝǝʇ oʍʇ! YOU LIE!" he threw the book at the wall. The warden sighed again.

"You're holding the book upside down."

The inmate paused for a second and his face dropped. He had realised his error.

"Oh. Okay. I read this book now." He picked up the crumpled _The Fault in Our Stars_ from the ground and began reading.

The warden turned to head back to his office. There weren't many inmates who accepted John Green books when given, but luckily this one didnt seem to know any better. Upon returning, he shuffled through his desk under piles of miscellaneous paperwork and old employee files to reveal his own copy of _The Fault in Our Stars_, now a Hollywood feature film, garnishing over 266 million undeserving dollars.

Yes, John Green was a juvenile writer at best, and yes, perhaps his core audience can't distinguish good literature from bad; but he loved this book, and secretly awaited the day he could speak about it with that inmate.

The warden heard scuffle and Arabic shouting outside his offic door. He put down the book and looked at the Mickey Mouse shaped clock on his desk. Holy smokes! 1am? He had spent the whole night reading.

Suddenly, his office door burst open and the Stephen King hating inmate stumbled in, held by a handful of guards.

"Sir, sir!" a white ex-navy-turned-Guantanamo guard yelled. "Inmate 69420B has been causing a ruckus in his cell and demanded to see you! He has threatened us with attempts of suicide!"

The warden quickly slipped his book back underneath the old paperwork.

"Well, what do you want?" the warden rose up slowly.

"A ceegarette."

"I'm sorry?" the warden was confused. He did not understand Arabic and often had difficulty breaking the language barrier.

"A ceeeeeegarette."

"A cigarette?"

"Ya."

"Very well." the warden produced a pack of Marlboro Reds from his chest pocket, took out a cigarette and slipped it in the inmates mouth.

"I no need light." the inmate muttered with the cigarette flapping up and down in his mouth.

"You don't want a light for your cigarette? the warden inquired, confused as ever.

"Metaphor." the inmate growled, shaking his head.

The warden dropped his pack and the lighter in awe.

"Boys, leave him here." he instructed the guards.

Could it be?


	2. Chapter 2

The inmate finished performing his act of the metaphor. The warden, in awe and impressed... the security, thoroughly confused and upset. What could this mean? The inmate sits on the other office chair in contempt, motioning for the warden to come closer to the door.

"No live?" He asks the warden, worry in his voice.

"Don't worry, it's only a novel," he responds, wiping a tear from his eye. He couldn't have been prouder at this moment. If only... if only he could get him outta there. But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

The warden locked his high security door. Three deadbolts, two latches, and one keypad/voice recognition lock. "Warden Braxton."

He rushed over to his Dell computer running on Windows 2000. He double clicked on the Internet Explorer icon, and hurriedly typed in "www. delta .com".

"You and me buddy, we're booking two one-way tickets to Amsterdam." the warden said in his gruff voice.

"Amsterdam?" the inmate asked dreamily. "Van Houten!"

The warden coyly smiled to himself, knowing that Van Houten was only a fictional character created by John Green and portrayed by Willem Dafoe. He had other plans in store for himself and the inmate.

The warden printed his e-ticket and pulled out his iPhone 4s and called for an Uber. The ETA arrival time was 4 minutes. He took out his passport from the his cabinet drawer, and the fake passport of the inmate which was confiscated upon his illegal entry to the United States.

"Okay, we have to get out of here in four minutes." the warden told the inmate.

Suddenly, sounds of synthesised beats and drum samples blasted through the office.

Rats. The wardens voice-activated soundsystem had activated to play 4 Minutes by Madonna featuring Justin Timberlake.

"No hesitating, grab a boy, grab a girl!" Justin Timberlake yelled.

"We've only got four minutes to save the world!" Madonna chimed in.

"No hesitating is right!" the warden, still in a flurry from collecting his personal objects to bring to Amsterdam. He looked over to the inmate, who had went from sitting to the chair to wildly twerking on it.

Wow, I am #blessed. The warden thought to himself as he checked the Uber app. Two minutes.


End file.
